


the apple's fallen far

by le_petit_mort



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: I'm working on a percy jackson fic rn, It shows, M/M, also here's a fic, as a treat, cause i broke the glass ones, i'm the reason my class had to use plastic beakers in chemistry and honestly, im sorry for what i've done, let's see if my motivation comes home from the war, like i broke my friends with this fic, that is relevant, this one's a whopper folx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29322582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_petit_mort/pseuds/le_petit_mort
Summary: John's last thoughts as he geos in after Wilbur.The something worse moved with him, always just out of sight. It gripped John's lungs with shadowy, cold fingers and trailed behind him in a cruel mockery of a shadow. He knew if he bore his soul now, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He knew if he asked Wilbur to come back, he would hate the answer.
Relationships: Xander Lee/John McNamara
Kudos: 5





	the apple's fallen far

Wilbur Cross was dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the coroner (though no body was found), the head of PEIP and his old partner. Old Cross was as dead as a door nail. It is no surprise, therefore, that the attitude of one General John McNamara was rather subdued on the anniversary of his death. It always was; John had been there when Wilbur went through the portal and hadn't come out. John had been there, in the front row, when well-meaning strangers talked about the man his mentor was. John had been there when the flag that flew at headquarters was lowered.

John hadn't been there on the other side of the portal. It was a fact that destroyed him. He knew what Xander would say; don't let it get to him, it wasn't his fault, he had no idea what would happen. But John, who hadn't had many people that believed in him before Wilbur, had felt a duty to him. He had failed that duty to him.

So it was that he was sitting in his office on the day of his old mentor's death, knee-deep in paperwork and actively shutting out his coworkers. He couldn't stand the way people looked at him, the pity and worry that maybe this was the year that John would break and follow Wilbur into the Black and White. He wouldn't. Not unless he had to. There was Xander and Schaffer and the rest of the team to think about. He couldn't leave them, not now. It was just as well he was there, really.

The call came through three hours into John's self-appointed isolation. It was made by a Sergeant who was clearly nervous calling the General, and was a little difficult to follow at first.

"Sir, there's electricity in the Portal Room."

"Okay. How does this affect us?"

"It's uhh… coming from the portal. Sir."

Huh. That was certainly new. But that was the nature of John's job, so he made his way to the room in question.

It was several hours before John stepped through the portal. There was paperwork to fill out, questions to answer, a president to debrief. Then the president started fading and John knew he had to go in after him.

Xander called after him. He couldn't look back, because if he did, he wouldn't go through.

_Turn around._ Xander's voice called, a mutated echo of Eurydice calling Orpheus. But John couldn't, because someone had to go in after the president, and they didn't have time to get ready. He wasn't going to send in some poor kid, especially when he was the one who had a responsibility to the memory of a man.

_John!_ McNamara turned to face the portal. The energy of the Black and White pulsed and cascaded, drowning out sound and sight and touch. It pressed down and around and everything got to be too much, but John couldn't look away.

_Don't go_. John stepped through the portal.

Everything was silent. It was dark, in this nowhere space, but somehow he could see. The shadows danced around him, shapes like Rorschach tests that changed and moved. Where he hadn't been able to see or hear or feel, the senses seemed far more prominent. There wasn't really anything _to_ feel, save for the oppressive darkness and something worse, but he felt it all the same. John stepped forward.

The _something worse_ moved with him, always just out of sight. It gripped John's lungs with shadowy, cold fingers and trailed behind him in a cruel mockery of a shadow. His breaths came fast and shallow and it was a struggle to even it. Fear spiked through his heart, trying to convince him he was dying. Maybe he was.

It felt like an eternity and a second had passed when John finally found the president. He was facing off against Wilbur, who was giving an incredible villain monologue complete with choreography. John sent the president away, back toward the portal and hoped he could find his way. Then it was just two.

“John.”

“Wilbur.”

The silence fell over them. Where once it would have been companionable, it was now heavy. Their words hung above them, just out of reach. John knew what he wanted to say- _tell me about the Black and White, tell me why you left, why did you leave, did you ever miss home_ \- but the sounds kept getting lodged in his throat. He knew if he bore his soul now, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He knew if he asked Wilbur to come back, he would hate the answer.

“Why?” John asked. Wilbur studied him. He bit his apple.

“Curiosity. Wiggly found me, and I started asking questions. I couldn’t resist.” He smirked his trademark, crooked smirk.

“Did you ever think about us? Or were your motivations completely selfish?” Wilbur laughed, a great booming laugh that did nothing to put John at ease.

“Do you honestly think I did this for myself? I did it for you. Wiggly told me what the world has become. He showed me how humanity has failed. He gave me a chance, here, at his right hand.”  
“Chance? What do you mean, chance?”

Wilbur gave him a look.

“To change the world. Everything is going wrong. The Darkest Timeline, He called it. He said I could help make things better. I knew you signed up at PEIP to make a difference. You wanted to help in a way that mattered. _This_ is what matters. Join me, we can team up, just like old times. Make things better from the inside.”

John was tempted. Wilbur was right. Things had been going badly for a while, and John would love to wave a hand and make things right. He could do that. He could talk to Wilbur again. His friend didn’t have to be dead. Something pulled at him, whispers clouding his mind-

_Don’t go_. The echo seemed to grow from a corner. It surrounded him, carried grief along with it. The grief tore through John, sending him to his knees. His pain at losing Wilbur, his fear for the world, his anger at losing. Xander’s pain and grief and anguish, all held in those two simple words. _Don’t go_. The grief turned into resolve. _Don’t go_. John had failed Xander. He had failed Wilbur.

He would not fail at this.

With more effort than he’d used for anything else, John stood up. He grabbed his knife. He stared, unblinking, at Wilbur.

“No.” That single no was filled with promise. The promise that he had failed to keep. Wilbur’s eyes widened. He turned and ran.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for someone in a Discord server I'm in. Thought I'd post it here; i'm proud of it, but i also want to have something on my profile that doesn't take me a year to write. I'm really trying this year, I think it's going well! Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


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